


Don't Talk Politics

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, And Business Partners, And References to Family Business Brewery Cos I'm A Proud Mom, Angst, Angst and Humor, Cute Jensen/Danneel, Cute Kids, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Famous Misha, First Meetings, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Jared Runs a Bar, Jensen and Jared are Brothers, Jensen and Misha Fall in Love, Jensen is a Sports Med Physician, Language, M/M, Misha Running for President, Misha is a Politician, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Supernatural References, supportive Danneel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Imagine everything is the same except Jensen, Jared, and Misha never auditioned for Supernatural -- never even pursued acting. Jensen went into Sports Med, Jared into owning a bar full-time, and Misha into politics.This is the Days of Their Lives.(See what I did there?)





	Don't Talk Politics

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I apologize for any grammatical or structural things. It's 5k. As the Beatles say, "Let it be."

Jensen never dreamed he’d be where he is today.

Not running a bar—even though it's half his salary with the Dallas Cowboys, and that's before the profit is split between him and Jared. Besides, it’s not about the money anymore. He's not sixteen, pulling into the school parking lot with his brand new '95 Lamborghini Diablo. He's on the cusp of forty. His modeling gigs, the thing that helped pay for his car and his first four years at Texas Tech University, are limited.

But that’s okay. He’s content with the triple-layered smiles stemming from his eyes. It’s just confirmation he’s lived his life well — or so far, anyway. 

It’s actually been a mutual dream of his for a while now, running a brewery. Even Danneel is getting in on the action, and aside from her added creative genius to the project, any excuse to spend more time with his wife is one worthwhile. Sports medicine proved a fruitful career by their three-story Utopian Dallas home and their anniversary trips to Europe, but not being able to make it home in time to enjoy a fresh, home-cooked meal with his family and having to constantly push back travel dates for last-minute fill-ins took a deadly strain on their marriage. Now that he sets his own schedule, working a few days a week rather than seven, he has more time to focus on his daughter and his twin toddlers and even learning how to cook—something that turns Dee on immensely.

The flat screen in the bar interrupts his train of thought when a man on national news catches his eye: a man sporting a three-piece suit and a practiced smile.

He’s not a newscaster. No, he talks wildly and passionately of policies and change. He rants about pollution and raves about equal rights. He deflects compromising questions about his personal life and moves onto the current state of our economy and the wrongdoings of our current president.

In other words, he’s become a great politician. And Jensen couldn’t be prouder.

He resumes polishing the glass after changing the channel to the game. Clemson versus his college, Texas Tech. Despite having been in the industry for almost ten years, he was never able to get into the games like he used to. He used to sit down on Monday nights—ones he had free, anyway—with Danneel, Jared, Jason, and Gino and kick and scream and have full-on sportsgasms that would sound more like Slipknot in the studio than anything.

He supposes he should’ve seen it—choosing a career based on a passion. Like a Black Russian that’s been sitting on the rocks a few minutes too long, the passion starts to become watered down, supplemented by the need to perform rather than the desire to serve.

And like the cherry on top, the perks were nice. Being able to save more than enough money and then some towards his kids’ college funds. He’s also dined with everyone from managers to coaches to the players themselves, and nothing makes for an easier present than something signed from a Dallas Cowboy.

But, like everything else, the ice eventually melts and he’s left to throw back the memory of what was.

_One Month Earlier – January 1st, 2018_

Jensen pulls his fleece tighter around his white and black polo. Lucky for him and not so much for the players, he hasn’t been able to develop frostbite due to the high number of injuries this game. But that also means not having too steady a hand, which could make or break a whole game, in some cases.

That’s why there’s more of him floating around. Well, interns, anyway, which can have the same disastrous effect if he’s not careful as a supervisor. So not only is he slightly trembling working with guys who make close to what he makes a year in a single _day_ , he’s barking orders through clattering teeth. Very intimidating.

January is always the worst time of month for his job.

“You wanna sit, Ackles? You’re looking kinda pale,” Trent offers.

“How are you  _sweating_ right now?”

“Uh, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been tackling other equally sweaty guys for the past three quarters.”

Jensen huffs a laugh, “Fair enough. And I’m good. I’ve gotta be on my toes.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jensen has to do everything not to cringe when Trent squirts half a bottle of cold water onto his face. Instead, he picks up his mug, sips, and honestly, the fact that his coffee is still warm provides such an intense feeling of relief, it makes him start to think every prayer he said before bed since he was six paid off for this day.

Which only gets better, judging by the guy in the first row.

Jensen’s not one to definitively say he’s straight, because he’s definitely a lot smoother around men than women. The first time he met Dee, he was working in a sub shop and she was leaving as he was coming in. Naturally, like two misdirected comets, they crashed into each other, resulting in her dropping her sub. Of course, as stunning as she is—with eyes like rich, brown soil and long brunette hair woven into thick curls like twisted branches making up one strong beautiful tree that would sooner than later prove to help him breathe a whole lot better—Jensen stumbled over his words. He ended up handing her food back to her mixing a simple statement with an Enrique Iglesias lyric, saying, “You dropped your hero, baby.”

Needless to say, he’s learned his lesson since then—or maybe he hasn’t, considering he hasn’t had the need to flirt with another woman since. But with men, it just feels so much more natural. Even Dee’s taken notice. They’ll be out drinking on the occasional weekend (like responsible parents that still know how to have fun, of course) and Jensen will turn into what Jared refers to as Nesnej, the much more confident version of himself, and just saunter up to random guys at the counter and strike up a conversation. Even Jared, who’s straighter than he is and met his wife in the very bar he owns, will do the same  _sober and_  toss out a flirtation or twojust for kicks.

But with Jensen, it’s different. And Dee knows this. One night, after they returned home where they had some lazy sex and just laid in bed, Dee remarked, “You really dig guys who look like they just rolled out of bed and straight into a tanning bed.”

And boy was she ever right. There’s no better way to describe this guy. Obviously he’s not the only one with this type, going by the woman seated next to him. Their kids look semi-into it, but the couple give the impression they know nothing about football and more about each other the way they keep leaning in and giggling like two teenagers high on both love and pot.

But going by the way he  _dresses,_ he’s definitely not the pot type—or at least not frequently, to keep up appearances. It’s a casual tux, but a tux nonetheless: a blue blazer with a grey collar over a black t-shirt with matching jeans and loafers. His wife is a little more casual (and brave, in this weather) in a beige tank top and jeans with sandals.

But it goes beyond a type for Jensen—he swears he knows the guy from somewhere.

Before he can ponder, the man temporarily leaves he and his wife’s Paradise City, accidentally meeting Jensen’s gaze in the process. He’s got blue eyes that only send more shivers down Jensen’s spine, but only a few, as the man’s the first to tear his gaze—and rather abruptly.

Probably for the better, Jensen thinks. He has no time to gape when his team’s on the line.

_January 8th, 2018_

He returns the following week.

Jensen’s walking to his parking space when he feels a hand on his shoulder. When he turns around, he’s met with the same intense blue eyes, but not for long before he’s gripping Jensen’s shirt and not kissing him—not quite at first, anyway. He has to pull the whole Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback, glancing around to see if anyone’s watching before he crowds him against his car.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he says, deep and raspy against his lips. His breath smells like the offspring of cinnamon and watermelon. He has nice lips, too. Large and puffy. Slightly cracked. They’re also slightly parted for his slightly hitched breathing.

Jensen should say no. That being manhandled against his own car scares the shit out of him. That this stranger wanting to do however he pleases with him right here, right now, is totally not okay and that they’re both married to beautiful women.

But unfortunately, his dick doesn’t lie: All of this just turns him on. “I won’t tell you anything then.”

Jensen’s inhibitions are swallowed by the man’s wet, supple mouth.

Jensen closes the door behind him, careful not to startle his wife. Despite having a blanket of anxiety heating his chest, he wants to make this casual. Or as casual as he can be explaining that he cheated on her with someone he doesn’t even know beyond simple description. God, he’s so fucking stupid. Why didn’t he get this sorted out in college like everyone else?

First stop is JJ’s room. No matter what state he’s in coming home from a hard day’s work, he made a promise to his daughter to always say goodnight to her to let her know he made it home. He does this by dropping a light kiss on her cheek and leaving a Jolly Rancher underneath her pillow. That way, when she wakes up, she knows he’s home safe in bed too.

Once he does this, he tiptoes to the master bedroom and cracks the door open. His heart’s already hammering noticing the light streaming through the sliver at the bottom, and even more so when he sees Dee on her tablet.

“Hey,” he says softly, as not to wake the twins. “I didn’t know you’d still be up.”

“I mean, I’d like to say something exciting, like that I’ve been sexting Jared all day, but honestly, I just got wrapped up in memes.”

“What did you say?”

Danneel glances over and shows him her screen. “The memes?”

“No, not that I…” Jensen sighs. “Sorry. It’s just been another day. That’s a funny one, by the way.”

“Right?” Danneel grins. “I love the way the cat skids across the floor.”

“Dee, I—”

“This caught my attention too,” she says before Jensen can get the words out.

Sure enough, Jensen’s staring back at himself with the man from the parking lot. The article’s titled _Prospective Presidential Candidate Misha Collins Crushing More Than the Polls._

Well, that solves the mystery of where Jensen knows him. He’s only on every news outlet ever… and now on his wife’s ten-inch tablet. “Dee… I’m so sorry. I… this isn’t how I was… well, not that I _knew_ exactly how to…”

“How you were gonna what?” Danneel narrows her eyes like she’s squinting through the sun that’s currently crashing into the earth, their world, everything they’ve built together.

Jensen’s mouth parts, but otherwise, he doesn’t move, trepidation anchoring him to the carpet. “Well, um… tell you, for one…”

“What? Did he force himself on you?”

“N-no, not exactly…”

“Did you force yourself on him?”

“No.” Jensen’s whole body practically shakes along with his head. “God no! I mean, I get that I’m officially the shittiest human being on the planet, but I would never force someone to—”

“Why’re you shitty?”

Jensen just gapes. He cannot believe how lightly Danneel’s taking this. “Because… I cheated on you.”

That’s when Danneel does the craziest thing: She bursts out laughing.

And even in his deep state of distress, Jensen can’t help but think as he watches her how fucked he is to have screwed this up. When she laughs, her whole mouth unfolds and the left side of her mouth dips like a valley leading to a riverbank. Many times, he’s found himself kissing her there, his parched mouth scraping for water.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” she says, catching her breath. Jensen doesn’t even have to speak for her to know he doesn’t. They’ve been married almost eight years. They could read each other if they woke up speaking Mandarin. “2012. At the bar. Christmas Eve. You kissed Gino square on the mouth.”

“But that’s Christmas Eve,” Jensen argues, “everyone’s drunk and having a good time—and Gino’s my brother-in-law. It’s like kissing Jared.”

“ _And_ you’ve not-so subtly checked out other guys at karaoke. Same type as this guy. Except, I’ve gotta say…” She turns the tablet back to Jensen to show the other tab she’s in. It’s pictures of Misha. “You picked more than a Jersey Shore reject.”

“You _googled_ the guy I made out with?”

“Oh please, you act like me and every woman in America hasn’t plugged Gov. Collins into our bookmarks,” she states. “He’s fucking gorgeous.”

“So… you’re not upset?” Jensen asks carefully, sinking into the bed like a dog who’s not sure he’s been scalded.

Dee just laughs again, scooting closer until her head rests in his lap. She looks up at him with those big brown eyes and that cute smile again. “Babe, I went into this marriage knowing and loving you inside and out. So what, you think dudes are hot? I’ve been with plenty of girls I thought were hot.”

“But if I kissed another woman…”

“It would be the last thing you do.”

Jensen chuckles before leaning down and kissing her. He lingers a little; taking his time to show her just how much he loves her. “So what’s this about you being with hot girls?”

Dee pushes Jensen’s face away and buries her grin in his leg.

_January 9th, 2018_

When Jensen arrives at work after an urgent voicemail, he doesn’t expect to see the whole team lined up in the locker room. It’s rare to be called in on a Tuesday, but on a Tuesday with no game and no one to patch up. “What’s going on, fellas?” he asks, alternating glances between the players.

No one will look him in the eye. Men whose careers he’s helped sustain. He looks to Randy, the coach, who’s the first one to break. “The guys have taken a unanimous vote...”

Jensen raises his eyes, suddenly feeling tension rising inside him like cement into the space where an old sidewalk was—a busy one, one that he thought’s been well-loved, but instead just well-abused. “And?”

“And we don’t wanna fag touching us, that’s what!”

“ _Rick,”_ Randy sterns. Rick, the quarterback whose arm he relocated so he could propel the ball to Matt to score that touchdown in Chicago.

“We can’t have you repping us,” Trent steps in. He says it like he’s doing Jensen a favor. Trent, whose knee he packed tight enough so it wouldn’t strain again and cost the team a ten-pointer in the fourth quarter of the last game. “It just doesn’t look good, man.”

Jensen draws in a deep breath, turning to the giant blue and white star plastered on the wall. Nine years. Nine long, strenuous years for a job that nearly cost him his family, his sleep, and his sanity.

Nine years of convincing himself it was worth it only for the sweat, tears, and field dirt pervading the locker room to smell a little too bitter.

He braves one last look at everyone lined up against the lockers like Buckingham Palace guards and salutes them with a single finger before heading out.

_January 17th, 2018_

“Jensen, this is pathetic.”

Jensen lifts his head wearily to look at Jared, who never refers to him by his first name unless he’s had a blowout with Danneel or when Nesnej wants to sing “Sunglasses at Night” on karaoke when he’s higher than balls, tripping on balls, or both in front of less-than-willing patrons. “’s five o’clock in Canada.”

Jared’s face contorts until his massive forehead looks more like a wrinkled lima bean. “I meant that you’re trying to get drunk off a Pilsner. What does Canada have to do with anything?”

“The _Arrow,_ man,” Jensen responds, though he’s not even quite sure what _he’s_ saying near the end of a single bottle. He’s always been a lightweight. “Fantastic show. Amell is just…” Jensen throws down his hands.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Jared says, swiping the beer from Jensen’s hand.

Jensen grumbles but shifts his focus to the Texas star illuminating the hallway to the bathrooms. “I’ve always been proud’f bein’ from Texas. Always.” He pauses before continuing, letting his Southern drawl pour out and stick to his words like a freshly opened champagne bottle despite there being nothing to celebrate, “An’ it’s not like what I did’s gonna change me bein’ from here. I like barbeque, country music, Fourth of July... my family. God, I love my family. And I left them.” Jensen’s eyes widen. “Oh God, I _left them—”_

“Dee knows you left, Jay,” Jared says. “She’s taking care of the kids. She knows you need time.”

“Oh God, I don’t deserve her…”

“ _Jay.”_

Jensen waves his hand. “Can’t you be a good best friend and let me wallow in my self-pity in peace?”

“That’s exactly what a good best friend _wouldn’t_ let you do,” Jared points out before nodding his head towards the entrance. “And that.”

Jensen swivels his head like a loose gear shift and his heart clenches. Misha catches his eyes, but it’s not like two weeks ago, because he doesn’t pull away. It’s that moment in a cheesy 80’s romcom when the unattainable crush strolls through the double-doors of the school dance hall. Everyone ogles Misha like he’s eating Cocoa Puffs from a gold-plated bowl and just might if he stops looking at Jensen like his nightly dose of chocolate.

“But I also know you well enough to know you _will_ do that, so instead of saying make good choices, I’ll say bend him over and fuck him as hard as he did you.” With that, Jared turns around so he’s facing the drinks.

Misha doesn’t even so much as nod when he slips into the chair next to Jensen’s. “Gin and tonic, please.”

Jensen screws his jaw shut and tries to focus on the screen. Baylor vs. Boise State. There really is no competition; Baylor’s kicked their ass five games in a row.

He knows well enough though that he can’t sit through that insurance commercial with that God-awful spokesperson without wanting to tear his ears off like that shapeshifter creature he saw on that other CW show _Supernatural,_ so he orders a Coke just to give him something to look at.

Jensen thinks this technique works when Misha slaps a twenty on the table before standing up until he sees the note next to his forearm. He waits until Misha’s out of sight, gone as quick as he came in.

_Wait ten minutes then meet me around back. Black limousine._

It’s the longest ten minutes of his life.

 

 

The draft from the overhead fan washes over his body, tickling his exposed pores and carrying the smell of the joint between Jensen’s spent sticky fingers. He’s not lying on the most comfortable bed in the coziest motel in Dallas, but he has a nice view. The ceiling’s lined with mirror panels, reflecting not only his naked form, but the man’s next to him. As it turns out, Misha’s got a beautiful body underneath all those clothes—that much bias is evident, anyway, by the red spots trailing down his runner’s length.

Jensen has his share of them, too. Some just more visible than others.

Misha’s stirring awake soon enough and looking at him, which alone could get Jensen off. He’s got this intense look about him that still makes him look intimidating with his dick out, but softens when Jensen cracks the faintest smile, wide lips stretching and creasing to fit his teeth, rippling out like a vast lake. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jensen returns. Still meeting his gaze in the mirror, he hands the joint to Misha. “Wanna hit?”

“You smoke?”

“Only when I can get my hands on a good stash,” he responds. “And you have a good dealer.”

Misha grins, plucking the joint from Jensen’s hands. “How’d you find it?”

“It rolled out of your pocket square. You have bad stage fright?”

“No,” Misha says, taking a drag before replying, “I just don’t have a lot of tolerance for Republicans.”

Jensen chuckles as he rolls onto his side. Misha’s even more gorgeous at this angle, where the light from the lamp’s draped over his body, starkly contrasting and beautifully highlighting his tanned skin.

A moment passes before either of them says anything, which is okay, because Jensen’s taken up watching Misha smoke as his new hobby. The way he carefully wraps his lips around the paper and inhales, it’s like watching a bee extract nectar from a sunflower.

“My agent called me when the photo came out,” he says. “‘Course, like everyone else, I’m so tapped into social media that I knew why he was calling. He didn’t even have to tell me I royally fucked my ratings. No one wants a married man who goes around philandering with other men to represent them.”

“Is that what you do?” Jensen asks carefully. “Philander?”

Misha shakes his head. “My wife and I are polyamorous.”

“You may have been born in a progressive state, but I was born and raised in Texas.”

“How did you know I was born in Massachusetts?” Misha asks, a smile returning to his lips. “Did you _Google_ me?”

Shit. “Maybe. My wife does too.”

“You’re married?”

“Only for eight years,” Jensen jokes. “It’s actually pretty funny how okay she was finding out about you. You’re like the Don Juan of Texas housewives.”

Misha blushes. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. Actually, I’m pretty sure we’ll be trying some kinky stuff later on down the road, so thanks.”

“Polyamory is when you have intimate relations with more than one person,” Misha says, blushing even harder as he tries to move forward with the conversation, even though Jensen swears he sees a hint of sadness or guilt in his face. “My wife and I don’t believe in being exclusive to each other. So, when we find someone that catches our eye, we discuss what we’re feeling and encourage each other to pursue that person—with our permission, of course. It sounds crazy to most people, but it’s actually enriched our marriage. We’ve been together since high school.”

“Wow. So, what, you guys are like Bonnie and Clyde but with Cupid’s bows?”

Misha chuckles, “I guess. Except, you know, Cupid is a pretty non-consensual mythical being when you think about it, going around shooting random people with love potions. Everything my wife and I do with other people is completely consensual. The only problem is when I decided to go into politics…”

“Why did you pursue me?” Jensen asks. There’s no spite in the question, despite everything that’s transpired. Dee’s always told him he has a soft heart. “Why risk everything?”

“Because,” he says, taking another hit before setting it on the convenient ashtray next to the lamp before turning to face Jensen, “you were worth it.”

Jensen doesn’t waste a second hopping back on top of him.

_January 20th, 2018_

“What’re you so antsy about?”

“Nothing,” Jensen snaps, fidgeting even more with the phone in his hand. “Where’s the remote to the TV?”

“Over here, why—?”

Before Jared can finish, Jensen snatches the device and flips the station to channel 4.

“ _Coming up,”_ the female news anchor says, cutting through Jensen’s anxious thoughts like a butter knife to a steak, _“A FOX News exclusive: Presidential Hopeful Misha Collins addressing the photo from the Cowboys game.”_

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You know damn well what, Jay,” Jared snaps. “This guy cost you your job and practically outed you to the whole world and you wanna hear _his_ side of the story?!”

“He risked his job for me too!”

“He’s a _politician—_ his job’s already _at_ risk!” Jared’s jaw clenches. It’s not noticeable unless you’ve known him for thirteen years, and it’s something to take note of because Jared has the potential to power the whole city when he’s angry.  Instead, he pulls something from his pocket and puts it on the counter next to the remote: A Jolly Rancher. Jensen’s eyes go wide. “You forgot last night. Dee couldn’t do it because JJ knows when it’s her because she doesn’t have stubble. You’re welcome.” Jensen’s too stunned to speak, so Jared continues: “Don’t lose your head over this, Jay. He’s not worth it.”

_“…Now, to Colin Dobbs in the interview room with Misha Collins, former governor of Massachusetts, to get the inside scoop on the picture that’s garnered over a million likes on Facebook and Twitter. The star of the picture? Jensen Ackles, former lead sports physician for the Dallas Cowboys.”_

Jensen licks his lips, waiting. The camera pans to Misha, who’s in a more serious suit than the night of the game, black and white with a blue tie. His dark hair’s combed over and his collar’s turned up a little higher for reasons only Jensen will know. Or for a few more seconds, anyway, since it’ll be confirmed.

“ _Right,”_ Misha says in response to something Dobbs says. “ _I can understand where people that get impression. And the truth is…”_ Misha pauses and Jensen’s heart pounds, because even though he’s looking into the camera, he knows Misha’s looking at him. He can never forget the way Misha looked at him that night in the motel. But there’s something else in his expression Jensen can’t determine. Sadness, maybe? Guilt, perhaps? “ _I, um… as I was saying, the truth is Jensen and I are longtime friends, so we’re very close. I was congratulating him on the team’s win. I got so swept up in the moment when I saw him heading out that I planted one on him.”_

Jensen and the reporter, Colin, have the same reaction: wide-mouthed in disbelief. “ _So, um,”_ Dobbs says, scrambling through his notes, “ _there isn’t anything… romantic at all between the two of you?”_

Misha makes sure to look straight at the camera, this time not tearing his gaze, and that’s when Jensen sees it: It’s both. It’s a mix of sadness and guilt on his face, like three nights prior when Jensen brought up his wife.

He did this for Jensen.

“ _No,” Misha affirms. “Nothing at all.”_

**_Now—February 4th, 2018_ **

“Jay, you’ve got a call from Randy! From the Cowboys!” Jared yells across the bar.

Jensen pulls himself from the conversation he’s having with two patrons at the counter, only to yell back, “Tell them they can shove it up their ass!”

Jared smirks and presses the phone back to his ear. “He says shove it up your ass, Randy… I know, I’m sorry, I tried to reason with him…”

Jensen resumes his conversation with the two. Jep and Jessica are their names. They run a food truck called _Jep’s Southern Roots_ and they’re looking for a permanent home. They say if Jensen’s interested in running his own brewery one day, they’re willing partners. Jensen tells them he’ll consider it just as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He excuses himself and moves away so he can talk. “Hey, what’s happening?”

“ _Oh you know,”_ Danneel says, holding a fussy Arrow in her arms. “ _Just killing it at parenthood.”_

Jensen laughs. He loves when his wife looks like this: messy hair, no makeup, and yet, she’s always smiling. “I’ll take over for you in a couple hours. I was just talking to this couple who run a local food trunk. They think we have potential to run our own brewery.”

“ _Hell yeah we do! We’re raising three kids—I think we can handle running a business for rowdy drunks.”_

“I love you so much.”

 _“I love you too,”_ she says. Jensen hears JJ rustling around in the background. _“JJ wants to say hi too.”_

_“Hi Daddy!”_

“Hi Jaybird!” Jensen exclaims with the same level of enthusiasm as Dee hands her the phone.

_“You won’t believe what happened today!”_

“What happened, kiddo?!”

 _“I lost another tooth! See?”_ Jensen does see. It’s one of her front teeth, which kind of worries him for the upcoming school week, but he knows Tom, Jared’s son, will step up if anyone tries to say anything. “ _It kinda hurt but it’s okay cuz when I woke up and reached under my pillow, I had a whole bunch of coins_ and _Jolly Ranchers! And not the gross ones either, the good ones! The cherry and the apple! The tooth fairy must know how much you love giving me Jolly Ranchers!”_ She pulls the phone closer to her mouth, as if to say something in confidence. “ _Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you talked to the Tooth Fairy.”_

“You’re the best, sweetheart,” he replies, nodding firmly as form of salute. “Always taking one for the team.”

“ _Love you, Daddy!”_

It’s been four years, but that statement from JJ’s mouth always tears him up. But JJ’s intuitive for her age. If she sees Jensen crying, she’ll automatically assume something’s wrong, so he straps his tears to the lids of his eyes and keeps his voice as steady as he can replying, “I love you too, Jaybird. See you soon.”

JJ blessedly hands the phone back to Dee, who now has Zeppelin in her arms. “ _Love you, babe.”_

“Love you too.”

“Everything okay?” Jared asks when Dee ends the call. Jensen sucks in a deep breath and nods, letting him know he’s a guy and “feelings are nonexistent” and that’s enough for Jared. He clasps Jensen’s shoulder to turn him in the direction of the dozens of new customers. “Good. Cuz we’ve got work to do.”


End file.
